


No One Wants to Hear Bach

by housebyside



Series: Hephaestus Saloon AU [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Western, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 21:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4977736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/housebyside/pseuds/housebyside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a normal day on the Hephaestus, in the Hephaestus Saloon that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No One Wants to Hear Bach

Eiffel ran his hands over the keys and let out a short breath. It wasn’t that he was bored exactly, it was more like staring at the same thing for hours was incredibly boring. Okay fine he was bored, he really shouldn’t lie to himself in his own head. He let out another sigh, this time much longer. Of course there was work he could be doing, he glanced back at the keys, and he was getting just bored enough to start it up again. He sighed for the third and final time stretched his fingers and began to play.  
The sound of the upbeat rag blended into the chatter of the patrons of the Hephaestus Saloon.  
“I see you’ve woken up from your nap,” Minkowski scowled at him from the bar, he couldn’t see it but he could feel it.  
“Hey I was on break, if you want constant music invest in one of those player pianos,” Eiffel said over his shoulder only missing a few notes in the process.  
“Maybe I should, Hera do we have enough in the budget?” She called to the backroom.  
“If we st-stopped paying Eiffel’s wages and got his tab payed I think we could manage one ma'am!” A chipper voice called from somewhere.  
“Okay I get it, I get it,” Eiffel grumbled transitioning into a slower ballad.  
“One water please,” a small man with a thick Russian accent sat down on one of the stools at the bar near the piano.  
“A water? Slow down Doc it too early in the day,” Eiffel said rather proud of that one.  
“Ha ha so funny,” the old Doctor Hilbert took his water gladly from Minkowski.  
“Eiffel don’t bager the man at least he pays his bills,” Minkowski said.  
“I do too,” Eiffel scoffed.  
“Hera what’s Eiffel’s tab right now?” Minkowski asked.  
“All of it or just from th-this week?” Hera asked unwavering.  
“I get it!” Eiffel said again and frowned, how on earth did Hera keep everyone’s tab memorized? He didn’t think he’d ever seen her come out from the backroom.  
“Actually Minkowski I will take whatever liquor you choose I am not particular,” Dr. Hilbert said pushing his water aside.  
“Rough day at work?” Minkowski asked.  
“You have no idea,” Hilbert said with no clear emotion.  
The day stretched on into night it was a weekday so most people had left and the rest had to be kicked out by Minkowski. She had the reputation for having the least amount of brawls of any saloon in town. Some would say she ran a tight ship, most people had a lot of fear and respect for her and, unless they were Eiffel, kept relatively quiet and payed their tabs.  
As closing neared Hilbert still hadn’t left and had only taken small sips of the shot Minkowski had poured him earlier, which wasn’t even the point of a shot Eiffel thought.  
Eiffel slowed down the tune he was playing, “Hey boss you hear from that Husband of yours?”  
“He’s still up east, working for a company, can you believed it? Says they’ve been buying several bars up there,” she grunted not facing Eiffel as she reorganized the various multicolored bottles, “if they come down here…,” she shook her head.  
“Oh,” Eiffel kept playing the soft tune.  
“Cholera.” Hilbert finally spoke up, it was the first thing he had said in awhile beside the noncommittal grunts he gave Eiffel’s commentary throughout the day.  
Minkowski turned and Eiffel stopped playing.  
“So it finally took him then,” Minkowski didn’t whisper but something about how the way she said it made it feel like she had.  
“How many now?” Eiffel was too afraid to ask but he did anyway because he never really could stop himself when he had a question.  
“That’s ten so far but there will be more it’s spreading faster than I can deal with,” Hilbert swirled the remaining alcohol around his glass. They were all silent for a moment, “Do you know how to play anything other than those silly tunes?” Hilbert was the one to speak again.  
Eiffel ran his hands over the keys, “Nobody ever wants to hear Bach while they’re drinking,” he said but started playing his Piano Concerto Number 1 in D-minor anyway, shaky at first then flying back into it as the piano lessons from his childhood took over his thoughts and fingers. As the moonlight filtered in through the windows, spilling over the wood floors of The Hephaestus everyone was taken by the music. Eiffel thought he even saw in the corner of his eye someone’s figure leaning in the doorway to the stock room also listening along. The music wafted out the open windows into the air where it sounded like it was the only sound in the universe, like it could be heard everywhere, even from distant stars.


End file.
